Had anyone simply glanced over, they’d likely have thought we were engaged in a fairly entertaining discussion. Had they been, y’know, staring at us, they’d have been able to figure out we weren’t even speaking to one another, given that we were absorbed in the noble enterprise of, um, eavesdropping.

Ok, ok, we weren’t totally absorbed…I mean, we did look at each other often, rolling our eyes, laughing in unison, so we did miss some of what was said. And I don’t know if it was truly eavesdropping since the braying ass was seated right behind us, booming right into our ears at decibel levels that squelched any opportunity we may have had to listen to anything other than…him. So we, um, listened.

It started when he plopped himself down on the bench seat behind me. I bounced into the air and was just landing back on the seat cushion when he announced that it was Friday night and he needed a beer.

“Y’all help me get that waitress over here—I’m thirsty,” he said. With his friends quiet, he opted to be more direct in getting her attention. “La cucaracha,” he shouted across the crowded Mexican restaurant. My son started laughing, hiding his face beneath the table to try to gain his composure.

Ah, but the night was still young.

“I want a beer,” he told her when she arrived at their table. “And don’t ask me for my ID because you remember me from last week, don’t you? I gave you a hard time then.” She apparently wasn’t giving in because I felt the bench move—lardass was having to produce his ID. After she walked off, he lamented to his buddies, “Can you believe that shit? I’ve been 21 for three whole months now and they’re still carding me!”

The horror. I mean, where’s the justice these days?

“I just can’t wait until I’m old enough to go to the bars, y’know.”

The first time, the last time, the only time anyone else at his table spoke, one of his buddies said, “But if you’re old enough to drink, you’re old enough to get into a bar…”

“Aw, hell, that ain’t true. That’s what they want you to think, but you got to be 25, sometimes even 30, to get into a bar. You guys just don’t know.”

I tossed my head back in laughter and my son, well, he ducked under the table again. He was sitting upright in time to hear the tales of the new job.

“This here—it’s a hand-me-down. But next week—no wait—the week after next, I’m going to get a uniform," and he paused, our suspense building,"with my own name on it. Pants. And a shirt!”

Our mutual amusement kept us from hearing for a bit, but when we tuned back in, he was explaining the benefits of where he works.

“Tomorrow, I am going to mow my boss’s yard. Fifty dollars and all I have to do is run the weed eater for twenty minutes. And then I get to kick back and drink some beer with him, anything I want. There’s one guy who used to cut his yard and he said he has all kinds of beer. He even has Bud and Bud Light. And then, he’ll take me out to eat—wherever I want to go, whatever I want to eat. I mean, even if I want a t-bone…”

But by then, we were pounding our table laughing, and with our eyes wide open in awe, mouthing to each other, ”ooohhh…a t-bone! And Bud Light!”

He was moving on, though, rapid fire. We learned that he’s getting paid in cash right now, y’know, under the table, because that’s what a lot of businesses do these days. And anyone in business knows that. But by the end of next month, his pay is going to double because then they’re going to start cutting taxes. And Uncle Sam can be hard on a single man. (Yes, imagine that, ladies, this hunk of a specimen is, surprisingly enough, single!!)

And then we learned there’d been some trouble at work.

“There’s this guy, last week he came in and paid it all in cash, eighteen hundred dollars, just pulled out his wallet and laid it on the counter. I’d worked on his air conditioner for him and the next day, he came back in, and he was cussing. I mean he was hollering. He said his air conditioner had blown up. And then they called me up there and I went and looked and you know, the only thing wrong was that I hadn’t hooked up a wire or two. It took me less than two hours to fix it. It sure was funny, though, to watch that guy get so mad about it.”

Uh huh. I mean, ain’t it hilarious that some guy thought that by paying cash, he’d actually get decent service! What an idiot….wanting ALL the wiring to be done correctly just because he was a paying customer! Ha!

We’d finished our dinner by then and although I hated to miss out on anything else, it really was time to leave. “How was your meal?,” the cute little girl behind the register asked.

“The food was fine. The entertainment, though, well it’s likely not for every crowd.”

She careened around until she could see where we’d been sitting. “Those young guys?”

“Yeah. Well, I can’t say it was all of them…just one.”

“Oh yeah, I know that guy. The loud one? Someone’s going to kick his ass some day.”

“I agree,” I said with a smile, “but until then, he’s just enough of a self-absorbed jerk to be fairly amusing…as long as you don’t let him work on your car.”